Rebirth: A second chance
by ilustgerik
Summary: Reincarnation. Modern day. EC naturally. Gerik!
1. A revealation

A/N: I, of course, own nothing.

Cold. That is the first recollection I have. Oh yes, and bright, far too bright. White walls that gleamed. Soon an unbelievably large man in white picked me up as if I was nothing but a feather and finally wrapped me in something. I was shivering and was just about to ask who the hell the man was. Was this Heaven? Surely not. I could only have a place in Hell.

I was then placed in the arms of another giant. A female. A plain-looking, and familiar female. Marie. I would recognize her anywhere. From her dull brown eyes to her dull red hair. A friend, she had been, to my mother, many years ago, and to myself as well.

What the devil was going on? Why was she so large? About this time I got my hand released from the cover I was given. When I looked down I was shocked. A small chubby, cherub-like hand wriggle in front of my eyes. Not the long, skeletal fingers I was accustomed to. I started to demand what was going on, but all that emitted from me was a cry. A beautiful cry I might add; obviously my vocal talents hadn't been lost.

The last memory I have before this is watching my angel float away with that fop. I was certain I would die from a broken heart. Perhaps I did and this is hell. To be forced to live my sad existence again, because surely I was an infant with these hands, and no means to communicate.

A woman in white leaned over Marie, and smiled at me. I, naturally, started at this. There was no horror there…no pity. I failed my attempt to search my face with my pudgy little hand, so I still had no idea what I looked like. With these three smiling at me, it can't have been too bad…or not as bad as it had been.

The perhaps most aggravating part of being an infant is the need for sleep. Very tired. Without any further attempts to see or feel what I was now, I must have drifted off.

Upon waking I found myself encased in some sort of cage, but this clear cage had no roof to speak of. There was another, similar cage on either side of me, the one on my right had another infant inside. Screaming at the top of its lungs.

I knew I had found the reason for my waking. I attempted a glare, but I fear I failed. When I opened my mouth to yell at the child, only another cry came out.

Finally, another woman in white leaned over me, a nurse I assumed, and picked me up. Still without the means to communicate, I simply left the nurse carry me back to Marie, who I now assumed must be my mother. As I was being fed, I began to ponder what would become of me. It was apparent that I was getting a second chance. I decided at that moment that this time would be different. I may have been only hours old, but I knew I mustn't lie. I couldn't deceive humans as I had in my previous life. Perhaps this time I could win true love, or at the very least, acceptance. You know, that's all I really wanted in my previous life, to be accepted for myself.


	2. What's in a name?

"Christopher? Daniel…Darren…David…Derek? I've always liked that name…" I could hear them trying to pick a name for me. As if I would go by anything other than Erik. Apparently I would be granted a father in this lifetime, and oddly enough he looked very similar to my former self…well you know, aside from the mask business. As I suckled on this plastic and rubber contraption, I noticed for the first time they spoke English, but were lacking the accent I was accustomed to.

"Earl, Edward, Edwin…Elijah, Erik?" Finally. I let out a bellow. Marie trembled around me. I met her brown eyes. She cocked her head at me, blinking. I wonder if she remembered then, but after a moment it passed and she only smiled.

"Yes…that's it. Erik Charles." I felt my face contort…into a smile I suppose, for her face lit up as she squeaked happily. When she called my father over I knew I would be forced to make a spectacle of myself to please them. An easy task, though, when I saw the love that shone in both sets of eyes. "Oh! Charles he looks just like you!" This only made my face contort again.

"Destler!! Time to take this boy home!" A ruddy, grey-haired doctor pinched my cheek and winked at me. I ached to roll my eyes at him, but kept my plans in check and merely smiled, once again, at him.

I was handed off to my father who changed me into some highly embarrassing outfit, I'm sure. I've seen other children leaving in equally ridiculous outfits. Yellow ducks…well I suppose it could be worse.

It wasn't until we left the hospital that truly questioned what year I was now living in. Some sort of motorized machine whizzed by. I couldn't see much while trapped inside this hooded carrying device I was set in, but other, similar machines were lined up, white lines marking the ground. Marie wore trousers, not the dresses I was accustomed to. My father wore some sort of uniform. Some branch of the military I gathered.

My father reached a huge machine, his I guess, and went to work on securing the contraption I was in inside. Then we were moving…I think. I couldn't see a thing, but I felt movement. Once I learn to walk again, I will have to investigate this. The scientist in me itched to know how it worked.

The vibrations must have lulled me to sleep, for when I woke I was once again being transported again. Their home was small compared to my mother's…former mother's that is. But then, Mother only had the best of things…except for son's…no, she didn't have the best son at all. All that finery dulled when surrounding me.

Sweet smelling cinnamon greeted my nostrils when we entered the house. It wasn't strong, just a hint. It smelled nice…relaxing. I was sleepy again. Very sleepy.


	3. The impossible dream

A/N: Thank you to the person who's fearful of my name who pointed out my errors. Much appreciated. Thanks to all who have reviewed.

I was warm and lying on something soft. Apparently the dream wasn't over yet. I fervently prayed it wasn't a dream after all. Slowly, as my eyes opened, they revealed 4 walls…well 3 that I could see…of a sky colored blue and more ducks. And what I assumed were toys. Shelves with books. A small dresser also decorated with ducks. I stopped for a moment wondering what was with the ducks, but continued looking around…what? My room? A room decorated especially for me. By people who loved me. They didn't know what I'd become, yet they loved me. Had only known me little more than a day. My mother had known me far longer and hated me. I doubt she'd ever loved me. I doubt there was ever that loving gleam in her eye that there had been in Marie's and my new father's. She hated me for something I couldn't help.

I took another look around the room. A room I wouldn't be a prisoner in. The windows wouldn't be boarded up. Emotion welled up inside me. I felt tears streaming from my eyes. For some reason God had granted me another chance at life. I had done nothing in my previous life to deserve this. Except perhaps releasing Christine to the boy. That one good deed had apparently been my saving grace.

So there I lay weeping in my crib. Two days old…maybe three, not sure how long I slept. If you were to ask me what kind I tears I was shedding, I doubt I would be able to tell you. Possibly happiness at the new life that had been dealt to me, perhaps regretful for deeds done in my former life, hateful maybe for my former mother, fearful for the fact that I may never find Christine in this life. Or perhaps I was crying for the hell of it. One wail and I could have my new parents running to feed, change, or just soothe me. But I didn't need any of that at the moment.

Instead I thought about Christine. What had happened to her? I suppose she married that boy. Had they had children? How had she died? I hope she had many children, for she would have been a wonderful mother. She was capable of love. I wonder now if she ever felt love for me, even when I was her Angel of Music. For a moment while and for a moment after our second kiss, I thought she may love me. She'd only done it for the boy, though, I know that now.

I could be everything she needed now. Surely God wouldn't grant me a second life, and not let me have her to love. I would spend my life searching for her. Life won't be worth living without her.

I'd stopped crying I'd realized. But I was hungry. My first thought was to ignore it. Then I remembered how my skeletal frame had disgusted everyone. I had obviously died when I was just two and 40. I needed to eat, be healthy. So I opened my mouth and cried. Father was the first to my room. I had already received far many more hugs and kisses than I had in my whole life before. I got to see much more of our home as he carried me down a hall, and down some stairs.

Marie waited in what appeared to be a kitchen. With a bottle. For me. Tears welled up again. In happiness this time. That I knew for certain. When Father handed me over to Marie, she gently wiped the tears from my face and pushed the nipple of the bottle into my waiting mouth.


	4. Birthday Wishes

A/N: Ummm I know its been a while. Sorry. I hope people are reading still.

I've been living this life for about six months now, and I can say my existence before was not living at all. Of course, I don't remember much of my infancy, but I can't imagine it was much like this. I had Grandparents. If I had them before, I'd never met them. A family.

People stop and smile at me on the street. I find I can't help but smiling back at them. I never really had much of an urge to smile before. I do constantly now.

I daresay I must be a quite chubby baby, as I'm always eating it seems. It appears I have a taste for mashed up fruits and vegetables.

I now amuse my parents with the babble I can now say. Unfortunately I'm not really able to force the talking and the walking on for some reason. That's alright though, this way I can really enjoy life. I think I may try out the mama and dada that they keep asking me to say. They'll get a kick out of that.

I still think of Christine. Every single day. Those moments before I drift asleep and just after I wake. And quite often in between. The thoughts of her will keep me inline. They must.

I'm beginning to get the feeling that Marie knows. She sometimes traces the right side of my face, and I'll meet her eyes. Most likely its unconscious, but I know it's buried in there somewhere. Maybe its my imagination, but I think she gives me twice the love a parent give, only because I got none in my former life.

Days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months, and before I realize it, I'm now celebrating my first birthday. Birthdays are a bit frightening. I remember the only gift I had ever received for the occasion. That had been from Marie. A magician's set that my mother definitely didn't approve of. I also remember the gift...no gifts...I had been denied.

I was told I get a birthday wish. I wish for the same thing every day. Christine. There is little else I'll need. I already had more toys than I could play with, but more came with the birthday. Even a small party. I suppose this is how birthdays are normally celebrated. Well maybe a bit different from my previous time. It was a wonderful day, but very tiring. I am nestled against Marie and I am very sleepy...

--

_Now we're going to fast forward 17 years..._


	5. There's no place like home

A/N: I'm glad to see people are still into Phantom. Here it is...where the real story starts. I hope you enjoy. I know I won't be updating everyday, but I will try to get another one in before, lets say, another year has past. But no promises ;)

Newark International Airport

Late summer 1998

I had saved every cent I'd been given for one reason. To go to Paris. I would study art there, but naturally I had an ulterior motive. I was very curious to see how the opera house looked, if my house on the lake was still there and to see if I could dig up some information on Christine. I had found nothing on her here in America. So I had one semester to search for her, on top of classes. I still have an obsessive personality, and it appears that she is still my obsession.

Marie, my mother, is rather distraught over my going to Paris to study. I've assured her the time will go quickly and it may be nice to have some time to herself. She had just given him a watery smile.

The airline was calling last call to board the plane.

My face was peppered with kisses that would have embarrassed most 18 year old boys. I basked in it. I could never get too much affection.

"Call me the moment you land Erik. I mean it!" Marie called after me. I grinned as I walked through the doorway that led to the walkway to the plane. I had flown before but this was different. I knew that I would find some information on Christine now. The 8 hour flight would drag on. Hopefully I will fall asleep and the time will pass quickly.

Charles de Gaulle International Airport

Eight long hours later

After a phone call to my mother, I quickly gathered my luggage and went out to hail a taxi. I directed the man to the closest hotel to the opera house. I was going to dump my luggage, and then go exploring.

It was well after midnight once I got settled in my room. I stood for a few minutes just outside the Opera. Feeling all my emotions well up, shuddering with the onslaught. I slipped into the shadows I had been avoiding since I was reborn and searched for the side entrance. I had found it within seconds. I looked around but no one could see me so I released the catch so the door would slide open. I was delighted that it still worked. I was also delighted that I had the foresight to bring a flashlight along because my vision was definitely not what it had been before…well…before it ended. My memory was just as sharp though. I had a number of traps set, which I assumed were also in working order, and I knew would bring my second life to a quick end. I will destroy them when I leave. I wouldn't want someone to stumble in here on an accident.

After a few moments I saw a bundle on the floor. My breath caught in my chest as I knelt down beside a skeleton dressed in a familiar looking satin and lace wedding gown. The gown had gone yellow and musty from the age and dampness but I still recognized it. I screamed bloody murder, fearing that one of my traps had done this. The boy had been with her though, and I'd sent them the other way, on the lake. I showed her so many times how to get through this way. I shined the light on the skull and noticed a deep fracture. Then I checked all the extremities. Right ankle had been broken and the left was twisted at an odd angle. It looked like she had tripped and fallen against the stone walls. The blow to the head probably left her unconscious. The blow alone may have killed her. I hope. That would have been quick and mostly painless. I did not want to think of her waking, and not being able to stand on her ankles. Blood loss would have been the cause of death that way.

I haven't any idea how long I sat beside her, stroking her gown or running my fingers over the crack in her skull, tears spilling freely from my eyes. Had she come back for me? I couldn't think of a different explanation. I don't understand it though. She left with that boy. Nearly ran away from me!

When I looked down again something twinkled in the light beam. In the palm of her hand, was my onyx pinkie ring. I had given it to her during our two weeks together beneath the opera. Either she had been coming back return that ring too, or she had been coming back to me.

I decided she needed a proper burial. I didn't know anywhere but the cemetery where her father was buried. I was quite certain I didn't have enough money for a plot, stone, casket…. I would need a job. For now I knew I had an oak chest that I would put her remains in. I feel awful doing that, but I haven't got any choice at the moment.

I would also have to leave her here until her grave was ready. I couldn't very well have a skeleton in my dorm.

Once I had her secure in the oak chest I did a bit more exploring. I was quite shocked to find very little damage was done to my former home. The coffin I used to sleep in was busted up. Some of my artwork had been destroyed but I didn't see much else. I stood in front of my throne chair. There it was. Glaring back at me. The mask. My white half mask. I hadn't had it on that fateful night. I had been wearing the Don Juan costume that evening and well Christine had well taken care of that mask. I picked it up. I could remember the feel of it on my skin. So tight, always irritating my already irritated skin. It was always so hot. So confining…in more ways than one.

Before I knew it I was running full speed to the lake. I skidded to a halt at the waters edge. I was breathing hard, but not from the exertion of running. I grasp my hand around the leather, squeezing hard, then I threw the mask with all my might into the middle of the lake.

My clothing was still all there, but a bit too small now. I will take my fedora with me, and also my cape. I will leave the rest for now. I put the chest with Christine's remains in it in front of her swan bed and ran my fingers over it one last time. I took one of my heaviest candlesticks with me to destroy my traps. I was now exhausted and wanting to sleep. I was glad now that I had arrived a few days early. I had a lot to do.

Upon waking I had a taxi called for me, and questioned the driver about making some inquires about Christine's burial. He was able to give me a few telephone numbers while taking me to the campus I would be staying at. I wanted to double check the schedule I had to see if I could find some employment and work that in around it. I was thinking about seeing if they needed someone temporary at the opera house. I wasn't afraid of hard labor, so I would even take a stagehand job or something.

Fortunately I only have morning classes so that should work out well. I made some calls on the way back to my hotel. I was appalled to hear the cost of burying someone. I'd either have to find something that paid very well or more than one job that paid fairly well. That may not even be enough in the little amount of time I am going to be here. It hadn't occurred to me that I could actually sell my artwork on the street. I saw many artists painting scenes, most likely of the Eiffel Tower. I would try that. And I would walk from now on and save the taxi fares.

I spoke to the orchestra's director's assistant and found I was in luck and one of the violinists was on maternity leave. I was able to audition that afternoon. I was brilliant. Of course I did have almost 35 years of practice under my belt. The wage was well above what I expected. I explained that I was an American student studying art and I wouldn't be able to make any morning practices. They didn't seem too offended, probably due to my skill on the violin, and agreed to allow me to miss morning sessions. That was a relief. If I could sell some paintings on my off nights I just may be able to do this.

I decided to see if I could move into the dormitories early. It was a bit of a hike with all of my luggage, and it was rather warm still. I think I may have to purchase a bicycle to manage all of this. Once I get settled at the dorm I'll look into that.

And so it went on like that. Class in the mornings, practice in the afternoon, and a performance in the evening. I had the weekend mornings off and Monday and Tuesday evenings. I sold every painting I made. Sometimes on Mondays I would go to the library and search for old news papers for any record of Christine. It took two months but I eventually found the article I was looking for. It claimed that she had run off with the crazed masked 'phantom' that lived beneath the opera. She had never been seen or heard from again. I printed a copy of the article and put it in my portfolio.

I stopped down the street a bit for a pastry and a coffee. I ate outside, just watching the hustle and bustle. I would sketch people, or my surroundings. Paris was much different now and it didn't appear to be for the better. I opened my sketchbook to a fresh page and I stared off into space. I started absently drawing a picture of Christine.

"Not bad, kid," the middle-aged waitress commented as she filled my coffee mug. I smiled up at her.

"Thank you, Madame." I had captured her smiling after my telling her a story. My index finger traced the charcoal line that defined her jaw line.

"The dress is a bit outdated, but I'm sure she would be flattered," the waitress said as she topped my mug off. My finger froze as I stared up at her, a rather confused look on my face.

"She, who?" I felt my heart race.

"Well whoever that is you're drawing. She's beautiful." I felt my shoulders slump.

"That she is Madame…that she is." I sighed as the waitress moved on to the next table. I'm beginning to worry that I may never find Christine, if she has in fact also been reborn. Undoubtedly she deserved it more than I. I am trying to be patient, but I never really did well with patience.

I knew I had the money to get Christine's burial started, but I didn't quite know how, without drawing too much attention. The headstone person would most likely be baffled as to why I wanted a stone with the death date over a century ago. I pondered over it for days. I decided a bribe may be in order. More money would be needed and I was running out of time. It then occurred to me that I had money stored in the cellar. Old money. It would be worth a lot. I was pedaling to the opera house for this evenings show. I had time beforehand to go collect what I needed. Thankfully I kept the flashlight in my bag with me.

There was easily a hundred thousand francs in my metal chest. Still in mint condition. I wouldn't take all of it. No, I would take a few hundred and see what I got for it. I didn't want to raise any suspicion.


	6. A face in a crowd

A/N: I hope people are still reading! Sorry once again for the long wait, and thanks to all who reviewed.

It was nearly the end of the semester, and I had gotten everything accomplished I had intended to. Well, except for that huge thing, finding Christine. I had only one week left in Paris. A local gravedigger had been easily paid off, and though Christine didn't have quite a proper headstone, or gravesite, it would have to suffice. I had chiseled the headstone myself, roses of course. I had her buried on a hillside overlooking the sea that she so adored. Once I had turned in my old coins I had quite enough money to do all of these things. Yesterday had been my last show at the opera, and I had cleared everything I wanted, that I could take with me, out of the house underneath. For my own amusement I left my secret, hidden door intact, in case I should ever wish to return.

I stood up, stretching. Dusk was coming, and I knew it was time to leave Christine's grave. I wasn't quite sure I'd be back again before I left for home, so I laid the bouquet of fresh red roses against the headstone. I had also planted rose bushes on either side of it. I also left my fedora. I gave the grave one final glance, and set off on my bicycle for the long ride back into town. The collar of my wool peacoat flapped against the frigid air. After arriving back near my dormitory I decided to treat myself to a supper out. I locked my bicycle up on the nearest streetlight and went in to be seated. I sipped hot coffee while I waited for my waitress. My seat was against the large windows looking out on the Parisian street. Many vendors lined the street, artists, musicians, even merchants looking for a quick sell. I never remember the streets being so busy before.

I almost missed her. Damned if I didn't almost miss her.

She stopped at a violinist on the corner, smiling then dropping a few bills into his open case. I was in the midst of ordering my meal, when my eyes bugged out. The waitress looked a bit frightened. I reached for my wallet, dropping plenty to cover my coffees and stood up from the table in one fluid motion.

"Excusez-moi!" She probably thought I was ill because she moved quickly.

I scanned the corner only to find the girl gone. I ran to the violinist and asked where she had gone. He pointed in the direction of a cab, so I dashed back across the street to collect my transportation. Naturally since I was in a rush it took me far longer to unlock the bike lock than any other time. I finally wretched the bike free, and pedaled fast in the direction I had saw the cab go.

A sense of dread filled me as I scanned each car I passed. I couldn't have lost her so easily. I pedaled on and on. Finally, my lungs could take no more frigid air. I stopped on a corner, still scanning the streets. I was pretty quick, but I knew I couldn't compete with a car. My breathing was harsh, shallow breaths.

After a moment, I caught my breath, and noticed a train station not far from the street I was standing on. I jumped back on the bike pushing myself over to the building. I dropped my bike on the sidewalk in front of the station and ran inside. I ran down the platforms, searching. Just as I lost hope again, there she was. She stared at me from the other side of sliding door. I stared back, eyes wide. She cocked her head , as if she remembered, searching her mind. I stepped forward reaching out for the door, just as the train started to pull away. No! My mind screamed, she was so close!

I ran along side the train, she watched me in shock, or confusion. I couldn't tell from where I was. She probably thought I was mad. I ran until I could run no more. One hand on my heart as it beat nearly out of my chest, and the other extended toward her. As I was doubled over, catching my breath again, I could have sworn I saw her standing at the back of the train.

Dejected, I slumped down on the floor. People walked over me, but I didn't care. My emotions were mixed. Maybe it wasn't her, but my eyes playing tricks on me. Angry because I wasn't quick enough to catch her. Relief because I really had hope that she did exist, and it seemed I had a week to find her.

Only problem was, how was I going to find her again?


	7. The Phantom Returns

A/N-….I'm baaaaaaaaaaack.

I spent every moment possible in the area surrounding that café. The show had run its course, so my services were no longer needed there. I painted half-heartedly, afraid to get too involved should I miss her.

The days sped by. Soon my week had come to an end. The feeling was somewhat bittersweet. I wanted to search every square inch of the city, but I missed my mother. Funny that the evil Phantom had become such a momma's boy.

But Christine was here with me, having a second chance along with me. She had barely lived when her short life was ended. I was certain our paths would cross once again. Had I not actually seen her in the flesh I would be leaving Paris depressed.

But there was hope. Hope was something I had clung to in my former life. I suppose I would in this one too.

I gathered my paint supplies and pedaled back toward the dorms. I left my bicycle with a boy a few years my junior as I wouldn't need it any longer. My flight left early the next morning, so I double checked my packing. I had cashed in about half of my old francs and I was taking the rest with me. That would be a nice little chunk of money set aside for the rest of my schooling.

I set the alarm clock and sat on my bed. Thinking. There are so many thoughts in my mind. Eventually I laid back and drifted off to sleep.

The high-pitched whine of my alarm clock had me up in an instant. The Parisian sky was still dark as I took my last shower and called for a cab. I paced back and forth, waiting for my cab. When it arrived I told him to take me to her grave once more.

I asked the driver to wait and explained I would be a few minutes but he would get a nice tip. He nodded and cut the engine.

As I watched the waves crash I thought back to when Christine was around ten and I was still her Angel of Music. She would tell me silly stories of the sea. She was rather a silly girl most of the time. She would giggle and laugh. But the stories reminded her of her father. So laughing would change to tears. So young to have lost both parents…so very young. I hadn't been much older, but I didn't lose my mother. I left her. Suddenly I couldn't wait to be home. Still I paused to run my fingers over her name…the roses…even the stone itself. I pressed my lips to my fingers, then pressed my fingers to her name.

The cabbie was still there thankfully, and we were soon on our way to the airport. I gave him the tip I promised and began my journey home.

Mother was pleased to listen to my recap of my trip. I left much of it out, such as the grave, the trip to my lair, and Christine altogether. She cried when I showed her my paintings of the tower and the city.

Unsure of whether the time difference was taking its toll on me or if my lack of sleep was catching up with me, I excuse myself early to bed. She hugged me for probably what was the hundredth time since I'd been home. As I hugged back, I realized how much I'd missed her. I glanced above her head to our last family portrait. I had just turned eleven. Father had been among the first deployed in the Gulf War. Among the first to die as well.

Mother was very brave. I knew it had to be killing her inside. I recalled how I had cried for hours upon finding Christine's remains. And she hadn't been my wife. I loved her, or at least as much as I could love. Mother was strong. I heard her many times weeping in her bedroom. I left her cry because sometimes you just need a good cry. The funeral was awful. There wasn't a body to bury. Just dog tags. She kept them on a delicate chain Father had given her the Christmas before.

I squeezed her and kissed her cheek. I said a last goodnight and headed to bed.


	8. I dreamed a dream

_Ten years later…._

_Erik?_

_ERIK?_

_**ERIK!**_

I could hear her cries. Feel her pain. It was like I was right there with her. But I couldn't help her. I saw how it happened. From the moment she slid in the side entrance. She was running…crying. She didn't even stop for a lantern. So careless she was.

The path was lined with traps, even I had to take my time when I used it, and I built and placed them. Christine hadn't made it far when she tripped on a large stone. I heard the crack as she landed, then skidded forward and another loud crack as her head slammed into the wall.

There was so much blood. A steady, heavy flow. I prayed the head injury had already killed her. I couldn't bear to watch her suffer. Those eyes flew open…

"Erik?"-she whimpered.

Then I woke. Crying…panting…my heart breaking all over again. Then I screamed out at the injustice of it all.

She had come back for me. I knew it now. What had happened to me? My memory was just black after she left with the boy.

I have this dream every day.

I still haven't found her. I've returned to Paris several times, revisiting the same café where I first saw her. Sitting there for hours, the staff probably thought I was mad. Perhaps I am.

I'm a jack of all trades now. Composing and producing musical theater, designing homes, and painting. Although the painting is for my pleasure. I had moved to New York, taking mother with me. She has her own penthouse. I was nearby. I made sure we spent time together every day, for I knew how it felt to be left alone.

It was still dark when I stepped into lush bathroom. My eyes were still watery. I sat on the edge of the tub, trying to clear my head.

I worked the rest of the night on composing. Making sure it was perfect, and just the way it had been on that fateful night.

As I played the music, I could see her with a dark red rose tucked behind her ear. Her beautiful curls left free and unbound. My fingers itched to stroke them. I played on, reliving my former life in my mind. The whole play up until we were on that bridge…I could feel her fingers removing my mask. The cool air upon my ruined face…

It no longer enraged me. When it happened those many years ago, I was furious. And hurt. I felt so betrayed. I saw the armed guards…saw all the signals… I knew it was a trap. Those fools thought they could trap me. But…yes…they used the right bait as it were.

With a sigh I stood up for a stretch. The sun was shining now. I would clean up and be off to meet with a theater owner. I was going to write, direct, and produce my own show.

Don Juan Triumphs once more!


End file.
